525,600 Minutes
by crimson-obsidian-rose
Summary: A short fic collection, with slice-of-life chapters ranging from romance to humor to angst and everything in between. Chapter 11: Prussia's too awesome to apologize, but Austria won't have anything else.
1. GerIta: Keeps Going Back

Hello there readers! I wasn't originally ever planning on doing a short fic collection, but when I realized I have at least 10 drabbles or vignettes lying around my hard drive, all too short to be posted on their own, but a lot of them that I actually liked, I figured it was time to jump on another bandwagon. Not all of these will be romance fics, although a majority of them are. Some of these are song-based; if they are, I'll give the name of the song they're based on.

The first fic in this collection is an angsty Germany/Italy piece (sorry!), and based on the song _In Another Life_ by the Veronicas.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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Keeps Going Back

Veneziano smiled, seeing Germany so flustered. He was rather cute, when he wasn't yelling, that is. Especially now, with enough alcohol in his system to make him a little looser, but not nearly enough to rouse Italy's concern.

"I-Italy?" Germany stammered, and not from the beer he was consuming either. Italy stopped rocking in his chair, and looked up at the blond with bright doe eyes.

"Yes?"

"I-I… I want you to have this."

A small box was thrust into Italy's unsuspecting hands, and the smaller nation only just managed to get a hold on it. Looking from the innocent little felt box (one he knew was used for jewelry even without opening it) to Germany and back again, he felt his heart i_thump_/i uncomfortably.

Italy clenched his fingers a bit to keep them from shaking too visibly, and slowly opened the box-

It was just as he'd feared. Inside the palm sized box was a ring, this one a plain silver band without any embellishments on it. It was beautiful, too, not too thick, but not too thin, and the ring gleamed as though it had just been polished multiple times (and, knowing Germany, it probably had).

Italy wanted it. Presented with this ring, his mind started showing him flashes of all the things he could have: living with Germany, kissing Germany, being with Germany, unconditional love from Germany; in that moment, he saw it all.

But something else tugged at Italy's memory, before he could blurt out the yes he wanted so much to say.

"_No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I'll always love you more than anyone in the world!"_

He faltered.

"I-Italy? W-What?"

By now he could feel the tears running down his cheeks. Italy did not _want_ to say no, and yet he could not find it in himself to say yes, either. So he cried.

"Italy?" Germany sounded crushed. It made Veneziano's heart shatter even more, but he couldn't try to replace the Holy Roman Empire, he wouldn't let himself do so.

When it came right down to it, Italy realized that if his love for Germany had been pure, it would have been okay to wear that ring and to kiss him. But his love for Germany was not pure; it was built on the remnants of a small boy in a black coat that Italy could not and would not forget. It was built on the hope that someday Germany would turn out to be the Holy Roman Empire.

All so that Italy would not have to choose. But now there was a ring in front of him, and so he _had_ to choose.

Burying his tear streaked face into Germany's chest, Italy allowed himself to inhale that scent that was sweat and grass and muscle and wurst and all things Germany, wondering in his mind if he could really give this up.

"…_I'll always love you…"_

Italy sniffled, pulling himself out of Germany's hold and looking up at him with puffy red eyes.

"G-Germany…"

It took all of Italy's willpower to press the box back against Germany's broad chest, and he turned around immediately, not wanting to see the reaction that would merit him.

"Italy." Germany sounded choked, defeated; a sound Italy never wanted to hear.

"For-forgive me," he whimpered. "I pr-promised I would wait for someone."

And then, without looking back and without a single falter in his step, Italy did what he did best.

He ran away.

_End._

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Note: The italicized lines are Holy Roman Empire's parting words.

Thank you for reading! Coming up tomorrow is a silly platonic US/UK fic, so stay tuned!

crimson-obsidian-rose


	2. USUK: 'Enchanted? Pffft'

Hello again, all! This fic already has so many watchers, it makes me happy! Thank you all so much!

This chapter can be interpreted as US/UK, or just platonic, whatever floats your boat. This is much more light-hearted than the last one, thankfully, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Hetalia.

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Enchanted? Pffft…**

"D-Do you hear that?" America stuttered, clinging to England's shoulders extra tightly as the wind howled around them.

"Hear _what_?" The Briton snapped, turning his head to glare at America, who was practically cowering behind him. "Honestly, we are never going to find our way out of here if you continue to be scared of nothing."

"B-but- The hero is never scared!" The younger blond exclaimed, fist pumping the air (and just barely missing England's ear as he did so). His shout of excitement scared a flock of birds out of their tree, and the resulting rustle made America cower once more.

England sighed. Honestly, and he was supposed to be the most powerful nation in the world. They were never going to make it out of this forest if America was going to keep clinging to him that way.

Not to mention, it was all America's fault they were in here in the first place. What kind of a person decided that the shortcut to the nearest McDonalds was through the woods outside of the hotel the World Summit was meeting in?

"E-England?" The younger nation stuttered again, and England could feel a migraine coming on. "I think this forest is… haunted."

America spat out the word as though it was capable of hurting him; England turned around to find him shivering.

"This forest is most certainly not haunted."

"Sure it isn't. I bet your fairies told you that, huh?"

England stiffened a bit at such a sarcastic reference to his friends, and debated changing his mind and telling America that yes, the forest was haunted, and that these monsters loved the taste of hero flesh. He came very close to doing it, too, before realizing that it would probably only cause him more problems.

"No, as a matter of fact they did not have to. I should hope you think I'm at least competent enough to tell an enchanted forest from a haunted one."

Suddenly, America stopped clinging to him. England was momentarily relieved, until he realized it was because he'd stopped walking. When he turned around, America was staring at him, pointing an accusatory finger.

"You… you knew this forest was haunted and you let me come in here?!"

"Not _haunted_, you dolt, _enchanted_! And I didn't let you come here, you dragged me in after you without listening to me tell you _not_ to come in."

America stared at him for a moment, a hand at his chin in thought. Then he turned to England suddenly, a bold grin on his face.

"Ha! This proves fairies aren't real, you senile old man!"

"What the bloody hell are you going on about now?!"

"If they were real, then we would have already been out of this forest. Unless they like watching you suffer as much as I do."

England now started to wonder if everything that had occurred up to this point was a clever ruse created by America to mess with him. And then he remembered this was this man who wanted to end global warming by sending rocket ships full of snow to the Sun to keep it cool.

"Of course they don't, they love my company! It's probably just you being here, screaming and filling the air with your non-believer aura."

"M-My… *snort* my _non-believer aura_," America was doubled over in laughter now, clutching his stomach and making terribly obnoxious sounds. England frowned, his eyebrows narrowed in annoyance, before he silently shook his head and left.

Maybe the fairies hadn't been any help, but that lovely purple unicorn standing just behind the trees might just be his ticket out.

_End._

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Hehe, this chapter was loads of fun to write. If you enjoyed it, or if you have any comments or critiques, please leave a review. Thank you all for reading!

Next Chapter: Spain messes up. Again. How will he work his way out of this one?

crimson-obsidian-rose


	3. SpainRomano: Making Things Right

Chapter 3; let's get on with the show~

Disclaimer: I still do not own Hetalia.

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Making Things Right**

"Lovino? Lovi, where are you?"

The house was far too quiet for Antonio's liking; he snuck a quick peek at the wall clock over the mantle, and found that it was nearing seven p.m. It was far too late for his Italian lover to still be taking his _siesta_, but still too early for him to have gone off to bed. In fact, Lovino would usually be in the kitchen right about now, either working on a late dinner or else working on something sweet to satisfy a sugar craving…

But there was no sound coming from the kitchen, which was close enough to the entryway that Antonio would have been able to hear the clanging of pots, whirring of appliances, or more likely the angry grunts and curses that often came about when food was being given the Lovino touch.

Sighing, the dark haired man walk through the house slowly, a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach, although he had no idea why he felt as such. After all, it's not as if anything _bad_ happened to his cute little Lovi, right?

* * *

When Antonio did find Lovino, it was in the Italian's bedroom with a tomato in one hand and a dart in the other. Tossing the dart across the room, he angrily bit into the fruit, causing the seeds inside to gush out.

A part of Antonio registered the fact that Lovino was, to put it bluntly, pissed off, but he was more relieved that Lovino was still at home with him and not in the hands of some rouge kidnapper (or France).

And so, being Antonio, he ran up to the bed and nearly jumped on his lover as he wrapped his arms around Lovino in a super tight hug.

Lovino froze, and then twitched. "What the hell, you bastard?! What makes you think you can just jump me whenever the hell you want to?"

"But Lovi, we're dating! And you weren't downstairs when I got home so I was worried about you!"

"I don't care, bastard, don't touch me."

Now Antonio hesitated; he knew Lovino's usual grumpy personality, and this was not it. Usually he would lash out at him, both physically and verbally, but today the younger nation was curled into himself, arms crossed over his chest and head turned to the floor with an expression that was more of a frown then a smile.

"Lovi, what's wrong?" He asked gently, pressing his palm against Lovino's forearm. The latter shrugged him off.

"Abso-freakin-lutely nothing, okay? Get out of my room!" That was accompanied by a shove, but it was not exactly what Antonio had expected either. He frowned, readjusting himself on the bed and looking at Lovino with sad eyes.

"I can't fix it If you don't tell me what I've done wrong!"

"Who said I want you to fix anything? Maybe I don't think this relationship is worth it anymore." Lovino was grumbling, but Antonio did not miss his rough murmurs.

"W-Wha?"

"Go look at a fuckin' calendar, bastard." Another dart collided with the target; bullseye.

* * *

Five minutes later found Antonio staring at the calendar on the kitchen wall in disbelief. Of all the days for him to forget, why did his and Lovi's anniversary have to be the one? And more importantly, how was he going to make it up to him now?

He sighed, running a hand in his messy hair thoughtfully. It was hard to cheer Lovino up when he was upset under the most normal of circumstances, so when Lovino actually had a _reason_ to be upset…

Antonio shook his head. He had to stay positive about this and think of a way out of this mess, lest he loose him cute little tomato forever!

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"Lovi? Lovino, can I come in?"

"No, bastard."

"Are you crying, Lovi?"

"No!" That was a yes. Antonio sighed, leaning against the door.

"Please, Lovino, I want to apologize."

There was a pregnant pause, before Antonio could barely make out a mumbled "okay".

When he opened the door, he found that Lovino had already changed into his pajamas, and was lying beneath his covers.

"Were you going to go to bed already?"

"Maybe. It's none of your business." Lovino snapped, and Antonio winced.

"I'm sorry I forgot about our anniversary-"

Lovino snorted.

"-I am! I didn't mean to upset you, Lovi."

"But you did. You promised me you wouldn't have a meeting or any other work to do today so we could spend the day together, but you were gone before I woke up!"

"Lovi, I-"

"Shut up, I'm not done yet! All day I waited, thinking, oh, maybe he ran out for an emergency, he'll call and tell me everything's okay and be right back. But you never did."

Now the guilt was setting in even deeper, but with that guilt came the resolve to make things right.

Antonio moved closer to Lovino on the bed, and pressed a calloused hand carefully against the other's cheek. Lovino looked like he wanted to move away, but to both of their surprise he let Antonio touch his face, not telling the other to get off, and yet not leaning into the touch.

"_Lo siento_, Lovino. I didn't mean to hurt you. I know I let you down, but… tell me what I can do to make it right. Tell me how I can make you smile again, _mi tesoro_."

Lovino paused, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he gave Antonio a frank look,

"Just kiss me already, you bastard."

Needless to say, Antonio was happy to comply.

_

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End._

Next Up: England can't sleep, and lays awake thinking of all he's given up.

Thank you all for reading!

crimson-obsidian-rose


	4. FrUK: Lonely Nights

Thank you guys for all the watchers and reviewers. You are all really being amazing; I hope I can keep up this chapter a day update. I have a few more on my hard drive, and after that we'll see what I'll do~

This chapter is one-sided England - France, inspired by the song _I'm Outta Time_ by Oasis.

Disclaimer: I still don't claim ownership over this series.

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**Lonely Nights**

The air was still, the night was calm, and still Arthur Kirkland was feeling restless. He shifted over in his bed once more, sneaking a glimpse at the clock up on his wall; 3:47 am. Sighing, the blond buried his head into a too-warm pillow, pulling his sheets back over his shoulders and shutting his green eyes tightly.

It was verging on autumn, and the warm late summer afternoons were fading into downright chilly evenings. Tonight especially, there was a certain bite to the air that made England want to get up out of bed and shut the window. Except, getting up would involve movement, and movement would rock him out of the state of tired numbness he'd finally reached, and who knew how long it would take for him to get as close to sleep as he was again.

A hand reached out the empty space beside him on the queen sized bed, fisting in the sheets over the mattress almost in contempt. He knew that a part of him was wishing it was a person there next to him, but he refused to acknowledge that weakness.

Another draft burst in through the window and ruffled England's hair.

Okay, so now he was willing to acknowledge that voice in his head, but only because another person would mean warmth that he could steal. In no way did he wish to be leaning his head against a lean chest, feeling short stubble brush against his forehead almost annoyingly as his senses overload with the scent of roses-

No, England decided, he did not want that at all. And even if he did, he could not have it, and so it was better not to think about it.

Yes, it was better not to think about France's silky soft hair, his deep chuckle and the way his chest rumbled a little when he laughed. It was better not to muse on the light in his eyes when he teased England, before he would take it all back with a simple peck on the lips that left England dizzier than he'd ever let on. And it was certainly no good to think about how warm France's fingers always were as they ran over England's skin, setting him on fire with just a touch.

Especially when this train of thought would lead him to think about France's whereabouts on this particular night, which would not take him to a flat in Paris, but to a quaint little house in the Spanish countryside, where the air would no doubt be filled with the sound of moans-

_Stop. Just stop thinking about it._

England sighed, but still the thought that it was all his fault his bed was empty and iSpain's/i was not. France had put himself out there for the taking, but he had protested again and again until It became one time too many. And now…now, it was just too late.

Another gust of wind blew in past the curtains, and froze the tears falling down England's face that he'd been trying his hardest to dutifully ignore.

With a rough sigh, England got out of his bed and stalked over to the window.

'Goodnight, France.'

And then he slammed the window shut, crawled back into bed, and tried to sleep.

_

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End_

Thank you all for reading. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter x3

Next up: Canada/Ukraine at the Carnival~

crimson-obsidian-rose


	5. CanadaUkraine: Carnival Games

I'm not going to waste too much time on notes this chapter. This time up is Canada/Ukraine, my personal Hetalia OTP. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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Carnival Games**

"Damn," he swore under his breath, gritting his teeth at the display before him. Another ball thrown, and another failed attempt at knocking over the damned milk bottles.

Sighing, Canada slapped another ticket down on the counter, before turning to Ukraine with a determined smile.

"I will win it this time!"

Ukraine smiled back, and the teenager at the counter rolled his eyes a bit. The blond had been going at it for half an hour already, and he hadn't even come close knocking the bottles over.

Still, the kid handed him another three balls, and watched again as each one missed its target.

"M-Matvey," Ukraine started as she saw her boyfriend start to shake in anger, "may I try it?"

It looked as if Canada was about to protest, but when he saw Ukraine's sweet smile the word caught in his throat. He sighed softly, before smiling and placing another ticket against the counter.

"Thank you," she sang happily, accepting the three balls she was handed.

"D-don't worry if you don't get them, it's not that ea-"

Canada was cut off by the sound of collapsing milk bottles. While he stood there, gaping in disbelief, Ukraine was clapping excitedly.

"Look Matvey, I did it!"

"Y-yeah. Congrats, Katya."

But she didn't hear him, too busy trying to pick out a prize.

A moment later, there was small stuffed pig in his hands.

"H-huh?"

"I know you wanted to win, so you can keep it."

And even though there were millions of protests on his tongue, Canada found himself accepting the pig with a blush when Katya kissed him gently on the lips.

_End._

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Thank you all once again for reading, and I hope you are still enjoying these little drabble-fics.

Next Up: America decides to share some Valentine's Day love with a certain creepy Lolita.

crimson-obsidian-rose


	6. AmericaBelarus: Sweet

Thank all of you guys so much for the reviews and the watches! It really means a lot to me, and so I will keep up with these daily updates as much as I can!

Disclaimer: I still do not own Hetalia.

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Sweet**

Belarus looked at the proffered box as though it was a bomb. And, knowing America, it might as well have been a bomb meant to slowly destroy her from the inside out. With its frivolous red cardboard and extravagantly ugly pink bow, Belarus found herself repulsed.

"Is this from Brother?"

America's face almost fell, but he recovered quickly. "Of course not! This is a gift from me."

"Why?"

"H-huh? What d'ya mean, _why_? Because it's Valentine's Day, that's why."

"I thought this day was for lovers." She deadpanned again; this time, America froze.

"It is. But I figured, since no one else- I mean, um… Just take the chocolates, okay. They're not poisoned!"

When Belarus looked up, America was looking away from her, cheeks slightly pink and lips turned out in a huffy pout. It was a cute look for him, she mused for a moment, before catching herself and taking the box from his hands.

And then (and she knew this was coming), America beamed.

"I hope you enjoy them; Hershey's chocolates are the best!"

"I thought Europe produced better chocolate."

"Nah, theirs is just pricier. This is the good stuff, though."

"…thank you."

And then, boldly, he kissed her on the forehead.

"Not a problem. Later, Bela!"

And as she opened the box and tasted one of the sweets, Belarus decided that maybe Bela wasn't such a terrible nickname after all.

_End._

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Next Up: One of my personal favorite pairings, Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, and Ancient Egypt all enjoy a sweet family moment.

Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

crimson-obsidian-rose


	7. AegyptusRomeGraecia: Domesticity

This chapter features a pairing very dear to my heart; if you'd like, you can see this as a missing scene from the fic I wrote last summer, _One Big Happy_, but it's not necessary to read that one first. All you need to know is that Rome is married to both Aegyptus (Ancient Egypt) and Graecia (Ancient Greece), and that he fathered both modern Egypt and Greece.

And with that, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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Domesticity **

"The boys are sleeping?"

Aegyptus and Graecia nodded, collapsing onto the bed. Heavy bags rested under their eyes, much like Rome's own. Of course, Rome was very much an inadequate babysitter, especially when the boys became hungry, and so he could only imagine how tired his lovers were.

So he held open both his arms and pouted his lips a little, eliciting a tired groan from Graecia and a tiny smile from Aegyptus, both of whom were curled against him a moment later regardless.

"We still hate you." Graecia was quick to murmur, but if the fact that her voice was muffled by her face being buried in his chest was anything to go by, Rome wasn't all too worried. He simply chuckled, undoing the ornaments in her hair until it fell from its bun in curls about her shoulders.

Aegyptus's hand reached over and took the ornaments from Rome, placing them and her own down on the floor beside their bed. She then slid over a bit, resting her heavy head on Rome's chest and hearing his heartbeat echo in her ears.

One of her hands splayed over Rome's chest, and tangled itself amidst Graecia's curls. The other woman sighed in content, her eyes already closed even though she was still awake.

Rome smiled softly, kissing Aegyptus' cheek.

"You don't hate me, do you?" There was laughter in his voice, and Aegyptus' smile came back for a moment.

"Of course I don't. You helped me find my greatest treasure." She whispered, looking up at him with tired, albeit happy, amber eyes.

He chuckled. "Hear that, Graecia? You should be more grateful."

In response she punched him in the stomach, but she was too worn to make it hurt. After a moment's pause, however, she replied.

"I am grateful."

Rome smiled at that, running an arm up and down each of their backs soothingly. He was grateful too, not only for his sons but for his lovers, and the fact that they could make this work. He knew they didn't like the idea, at first, but Rome was not so oblivious; he knew that Graecia and Aegyptus had their own special relationship too. Time made them open up to the idea, that and motherhood, and Rome could not think of a time when he was ever happier.

Now, feeling the two women in his arms drift off into sleep, Rome decided he would follow suit. But once he closed his eyes, a shrieking sob echoed in from the next room.

Before either woman could get out of bed (and he knew they had both already awoken), Rome slipped out from between them and shushed each woman with a kiss to her temple.

"You rest, I'll go."

And when the sounds of sobbing slowly faded away, Aegyptus and Graecia never felt more in love.

_End._

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I really hope that you all liked this one x3 It was a blast to write it!

Next Up: Holland and Belgium have some quality bonding time.

crimson-obsidian-rose


	8. HollandBelgium: Radience

I'm sick, but I managed to pull through enough to get this out there~ As always, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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Radiance **

"Remind me again why I followed you up here?" Belgium scoffed, her feet tired and aching as she trekked up the beaten path behind her brother. The sun was relentless in its attack, and she could feel her hair already becoming sticky with sweat.

Without his even turning around, Belgium could see the teasing smirk on his face when he replied, "Come on, Bella, I know you're enjoying the view!"

Belgium wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes and trying to convince herself that her face was red from the heat of the hike.

There was not much left to the hike after that, though, and soon Holland turned to face his sister with a glimmer of excitement twinkling in his eyes.

"Wait until you see this," He started, pushing away a few shrubs and branches to reveal a larger plain. Belgium could see that it was actually a cliff, and probably very high if the climb was anything to go by.

But she didn't have time to say anything, because soon enough her brother's hand was wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her towards the edge.

"Look, Bel," he murmured, cutting her off before she could make quips about him trying to kill her. Belgium hesitated, because she knew that breathless tone.

When she turned around, she saw the fields of tulips beneath them, all radiant and blooming in the sunlight, but none so much as Holland's warm smile.

_End._

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Aw, these two are so cute! I had a tough time writing for these two at first, but the results made me really happy~

Next Up: The Ancient Mediterranean Trio once more, this time in a much more… crack-ful light.

crimson-obsidian-rose


	9. AegyptusRomeGraecia: Girlfriend

Hehe, I apologize for the crackishness of this chapter. Well, I want to, but I can't.

This chapter is based on the Avril Lavigne song, _Girlfriend_.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia.

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Cause She's Like, So Whatever**

The Mediterranean Sea was as glistening as ever in the afternoon sunlight, its deep blue water emitting a radiant light of its own. Of course he would bring _her_ here for their date.

Not that Helen was spying; no, of course not. She was certainly above stalking Romulus and Amunet on their date; she had just happened to be here, wandering the shore of their shared sea, when she spotted the happy couple.

And boy, were they ever the most sickening happy couple. Didn't they realize it was far too hot out to be cuddling so close? How could they stand sharing so much body heat?!

Helen sighed, slumping into the sand and staring up at the sky, avoiding looking right at the sun but otherwise not doing much else. She always did this to herself; what was she, some sort of masochist?

Still, there was the voice in the back of Helen's voice that reminded her she was not so wrong in her affections for Rome; after all, it seems that they were not as unrequited as he would like Amunet to believe. Like the time she had gone out for fish and returned with her clothes clinging to her body, only to feel his lecherous eyes run along her figure. Or the time she'd been chasing him out of the village for trying to spy on her in the baths, only to have him turn around and compliment her messy hair and flushed face when she was too tired to keep going. Or the time when she'd found a bouquet of wild flowers on her doorstep, left anonymously except for the fact that she saw him standing not too far off, attempting to disguise himself with a fake moustache that looked completely _ridiculous_.

…Okay, so it was terribly obvious that Romulus was head over heels for her. That didn't explain why he was sitting several meters away, sucking face with Amunet. Sure, she was a foreigner with exotic features and a sweet temperament. And yes, she was beautiful and gorgeous and mysterious and all that stuff men went crazy for, but if Romulus was going to be so obvious in his affections for her he should stop wasting his time with _her_.

Resolving that she was going to remedy this, Helen sat up again and shook the sand out of her hand and clothing. Adjusting her curls back into a messy bun, she strode across the beach confidently, and sat down beside the happy couple, a warm smile on her face.

"Hello Amunet, _Romulus_."

"Hello." Amunet replied coolly, her hold on Romulus' bicep tightening.

"Helen!" Romulus greeted excitedly, completely oblivious to the war the two women were having with their stares. Helen gave him the same warm smile, and Amunet's eyebrows furrowed dangerously.

"How are you two doing?"

"We're doing just fine." Helen clearly heard the hints of malice in Amunet's tone, even though Romulus was completely unaware. Geez, the man was thick. Oh well, at least he was also romantic and affectionate.

_Besides_, Helen decided, _if he won't figure out my intentions on his own, I'll just have to give him a hint._

And with that thought, Helen grabbed Romulus to her and kissed him soundly on the lips.

--

Two days later, Helen and Romulus were spotted on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea together, and angry Amunet watching from afar.

_End._

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I know I enjoyed this prompt.

Next Up: The Medtrio (modern) spends some much needed quality time together.

crimson-obsidian-rose


	10. MedTrio: Mare Nostrum

Hello again, everyone!

Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia. Seriously.

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mare nostrum**

The air was humid, heavy, and laden with the smell of salt water. It was still early in the morning, with the sun just barely rising, and no one was around to question the presence of three strange men; strange because they felt familiar, although very few knew who they were.

The three were seated along a wall facing the sea, and a sudden odd breeze filled their noses with the seaside air.

"This is nice." The youngest mused, and the elder two, who were really not older by all that much, agreed, wearing smiles that were rare in each other's presence.

Not many people knew these men at all, and of that none knew about these meetings. They were completely secret, planned only with a meeting of their gazes and an understanding nod, and occurred so infrequently that they were never held more than thrice a century.

Another breeze flew, causing dark locks of hair to sweep across the men's foreheads; the Egyptian had opted out of wearing his hat that day, the Turk left his mask at home, and the Greek seemed a stranger without his many cats in tow. It was their day off; they did not have to be Egypt, Greece, and Turkey that day, and chose to leave Gupta, Heracles, and Sadiq behind as well.

This way, it no longer mattered who hated who, which of them was the victim of the other's brute force, whom from among their ranks was the conqueror and who was their conquered. This way, it didn't matter if one preferred to speak through his silence, and if one enjoyed napping more than socializing, and if one had an ego the size of their shared sea. This way, they could finally be together, history thrown to the wind and personal prejudices gone with it.

And the only witness was the sea itself.

_End._

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Thanks for reading!

Next Up: All Prussia wants is to be forgiven, even if he won't admit it.

crimson-obsidian-rose


	11. PrussiaAustria: Fall For You

Sorry this update is later than usual; I'm not feeling well, and so I keep forgetting stuff I have to do. Hehe ^^;

This fic was written for someone very special to me. I hope you all enjoy it like she did 3

Disclaimer: Still. Don't. Own. Hetalia.

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Fall For You**

Prussia was many things; he was bold, presumptuous, loud, boisterous, uncouth, unkempt, gutter-minded, pig-headed, and so many other things that Austria did not even wish to waste his time listing them all. There were loads of things his time could be put to better use to than anything to do with the rowdy albino. Or, so he said.

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"Just hear me out, okay? I want to apologize!"

"You? Apologize?" Austria scoffed. "Is this the end of the world coming?"

The brunet nation, sick of hearing lies and not wanting to let the cold into his warm home, made to shut the door, only to have Prussia stick his foot in the doorway and keep it open.

"Seriously you prissy anal bastard, I'm not here to mess with you!"

"Oh, sure, because when you want someone to listen to you the best way to go about it is to insult them. If I find you on my doorstep again I'm not above calling the authorities." The brunet stated simply, his tone cold, and kicking Prussia's foot out of the doorway he slammed it shut and clicked the lock.

Ignoring the pounding and the pleading, Austria turned around and left the room.

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It was to his kitchen that Austria looked for peace of mind; sitting at his table with a cup of hot tea in one hand and an autobiography of Chopin in the other, he could finally relax.

Relax, that is, until he heard rasping on the glass window pane. Looking up, he was more annoyed than surprised to see Prussia, still standing out in the snow.

When the albino found he'd had Austria's attention, he blew on the glass and wrote in the fog.

Austria scoffed. "It's backwards, you dolt!" He called, knowing that Prussia couldn't hear him anyways. Turning back to his book, he sipped at his tea silently until the rasping on the window got to be too hard to ignore.

This time Austria was fully prepared to turn around and yell at Prussia, but froze instantly. There on the glass, written so that Austria could read it, was the simplest of messages:

_I love you_

Beyond that, Austria could see Prussia kicking at the snow, refusing to meet his gaze. With a heavy sigh, he unlocked the back door and called out,

"Well, then, I'll hear you out."

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"So then, I expect your warm enough now to tell me what it was you wanted to say."

Prussia sighed heavily, giving Austria an odd sort of look.

"You already don't want hear what I have to say, so what's the point?"

Austria could feel a vein throb in his forehead.

"I already let you into my house. Please just say it before I choose to kick you out."

"There! See, you're only listenin' because I bothered you so much. You probably don't even give a fuck what I have to say."

Rubbing his forefingers at the beginnings of a migraine, Austria sighed. He then looked up at Prussia, trying to let the albino know he was listening, and noticed something odd flickering in those red eyes. He would go as far as to say it was embarrassment, but this was still Prussia so that was impossible.

"Alright." Nope, he was definitely nervous about something, what with the way his voice was quavering. Austria leaned in a bit, suddenly more interested.

"I guess I- I mean, um. Well, the Awesome Me decided that our last fight was completely stupid and decided that you had to get over yourself, priss." Prussia's voice still sounded doubtful, and Austria had a startling thought.

"Is this… your way of apologizing?"

"What? Me, apologize?" Prussia chuckled, but to Austria it seemed half hearted. "You're cracked."

"Hm, well, that's too bad." The brunet mused, and he could feel Prussia's stare once him once more. "If you had apologized, I might have possibly considered forgiving you."

Now Prussia stood, walking around the table and plopping down beside Austria on the couch.

"Forgive…"

"Yes, Prussia, forgive."

There was a devilish smirk on the albino's face now, and Austria could swear their faces had gotten closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what that word means. Maybe you could show me." Even from this close, Austria could sense the eyebrow waggle. He sighed, more for show than anything else, and complied.

"Alright then. But only because your manners are atrocious-"

But before Austria could even breathe, Prussia was kissing him senseless.

_End_.

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As always, thank you guys all so much for reading! It means a lot to me!

Next Up: And that's probably the reason why there aren't many Asian family portraits…

crimson-obsidian-rose


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